


Imperium

by Rendered



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Coming Out, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Meetings, High School, M/M, Minor Violence, Shopping, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rendered/pseuds/Rendered
Summary: In which Brendon pranks Josh by calling a phone number on the tag of a thrifted hoodie, superseded by a chain of events that Josh is not prepared for.





	Imperium

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt, word for word: "someone who goes thrift shopping right and they find a sweater with a phone number or an address stitched into the sleeve/label and then they either call the number/go to the address and some wild shit happens."
> 
> I changed some of it, actually, because I had another idea. But this is the original prompt.

If you were to ask future Josh what the strangest event of his life was, he would reply with the thrift store incident of his high school days; something that percolated into a major event that he never could have foreseen.

*

While thrift shopping with Brendon wasn't high on his list of things he wanted to do, he was bored and Brendon promised him ice cream. That's how Josh was lured into the shotgun seat of Brendon’s beat-up Ford, pulling into GoodThings, this locally owned thrift store a few blocks from his house.

“I'm only doing this for the sake of peanut butter ice cream,” Josh grumbled as Brendon pulled into the lot, mindful of his parallel parking. “Like, I wouldn't be here at all if not for peanut butter ice cream.

“Man, you have no chill. I have a date with Ryan and you won't even come here and help me pick out something suave to wear!” Brendon complained as he turned the engine off.

To which Josh replied, “You know I hate shopping and I'd rather be doing something else,” as he slid out of the car and followed Brendon inside the store.

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck you.”

“And no one says ‘suave’ anymore, dude.”

Being the better man, Brendon chose not to retaliate. Rather, he ditched Josh as he headed into the dinghy store, going straight into the Men’s section. 

Josh sighed through his nose and followed. “Please don't take too long.”

“I'll take however long I want,” Brendon said, fishing a polo out of a bargain bin. “Ew, no. How about this?” He grabbed another shirt, holding it in front of his torso, and cocking one eyebrow up.

The shirt was patterned with parrots, striped red and blue. “Hell no,” Josh said, crossing his arms. “No wonder that thing was thrifted. I might wear it if it was the last article of clothing on earth.”

“I know, I'm fucking around. How about this, though, for real?” Brendon tossed the parrot shirt carelessly back into the bin, grabbing a slightly wrinkled blazer. “I could wear this over that white shirt I have back at home. Eh? Eh?”

Josh shook his head, warming up now. “No,” he said, crossing over to the bin and digging his hands in. “Definitely not.”

“Then help me find something,” Brendon snapped, throwing the blazer at Josh, who dodged it artfully.

“That's what I'm doing, jackass.” Josh sifted through the clothing, occasionally wrinkling his nose. “Some of this stuff smells really bad, holy hell.” His fingers closed around something soft. “Let's see what this is,” he said, managing to extricate the piece of clothing from the cramped bin. 

It was a black hoodie, slightly wrinkled. “Wow. This actually isn't bad,” Josh said, examining it. It looked like it could fit. Plain and black. Just Josh’s style on days where he didn't want to dress in vibrant clothing.

Brendon hummed. “You can get that, but I'm not paying for it.”

Josh scowled. “I never said I was going to buy it.” Nevertheless, he scanned inside the hoodie, looking for a price tag. 

Instead he saw some writing scribbled in Sharpie upon the tag. Possibly a name and a phone number. 

“TJ,” he read out loud. “And a phone number.”

Brendon paused, craning his neck to take a look. “So what?” he said.

Josh shrugged. “Nothing,” he said. “You know, I might have bought this but it's got some dude's initials in it or something. I don't want it now.”

But as he went to discard it in the bin, Brendon stopped him with one hand. Josh took one look at his friend and could see the cogs turning already. A smile was beginning to bloom on his face. 

“Dude,” Brendon said, “I have an idea.”

“No,” Josh said.

“You haven't even heard it yet!”

“I know what you're going to say, and I am not doing it.”

Brendon turned, hands on hips. “Oh? And what was I going to say, Josh?”

Josh narrowed his eyes. “You want me to prank the owner by calling the number.”

Brendon copied Josh, eyes narrowing. “Not at all,” he said levelly, but as he turned Josh caught a Damn it being uttered. Then Brendon turned back. “Seriously though,” he said, “please call the number. It'll be hilarious!”

“How will it be hilarious? Bothering some poor guy who might even be a rapist or something over the hoodie they thrifted?” Josh tossed the hoodie back into the bin. “Come on, just get what you want so we can leave. And don't forget about ice cream.” He turned and walked away, pushing past the register and heading out the doors.

*

Brendon made an appearance ten minutes layer hauling a bag filled with clothes while Josh slumped in his seat, feet up on the dashboard. 

“Hey, man, feet off the dash. Respect my car,” Brendon said, as he set his bag in the back, then joining Josh in the front. 

Josh obliged. “Can we get going now?”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on just a second.” Brendon gunned the engine, but didn't take the car out of park. Instead he pulled out his phone.

“Really? Can that not wait until you drop me off?”Josh demanded.

“Nope,” Brendon said. “Just give me two seconds...ah, got it.” And he turned his phone around, offering it to Josh.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Josh snapped, looking down. Then his face purpled with rage. “Brendon, you fucking idiot!” he yelled. “Hang up?”

Brendon’s face was awash with glee as he pushed the phone Josh’s way, bringing one finger up to his lips in the universal signal for quiet. 

Josh snatched the phone out of his hand and pressed the button to hang up, tossing the phone back into Brendon’s lap.

“Hey!” Brendon said, “What the hell?”

“No, I should be asking you that. Stop with your stupid games and let's go.” Josh folded his arms, curling up into the seat and facing the window. He was pissed and he wanted to go home. But more than that, he wanted his fucking ice cream.

Brendon put the car in reverse. “You're no fun sometimes,” he grumbled.

*

A stop at the nearest ice cream shop later, Josh balanced his ice cream in one hand as he struggled to unlock the door to his house. Brendon honked as he drove away, and Josh grumbled. 

The door finally gave way, admitting Josh into his garage. He proceeded into his house, pausing to stow his leftover ice cream in the freezer before heading into the living room.

The lights were off, and no one else was home. Not surprising considering his younger siblings were all at summer camp, his parents at work. The house was his responsibility during the day. He was too old for camp, didn't want to work. Didn't plan on going to college. His parents had fought him over the issue of getting a job, but he'd fought back harder and they let him be. 

As he flopped onto the couch, the phone rang. Groaning, Josh pushed himself up and headed over the landline. Seriously, who called the landline anymore besides bots and scam callers? He took a look at the caller ID. Nobody he knew. Still, it would only be politic and practical to answer it.

He answered it. “Hello?”

“Hello? Is this Josh?”

Weird. The speaker knew his name, and yet Josh was certain he had never heard this person before. “Yeah,” Josh said cautiously. “Can I ask who this is…”

“Oh, sorry. I'm Tyler Joseph? I was told by someone else to call this number because a Josh had something for me?”

Josh is a quick learner. Right then he was able to connect the dots on the spot.

Oh, he was going to kill Brendon for forwarding his number.

“Sorry,” Josh said through gritted teeth. “My friend pranked you. He's stupid, and he found your thrifted hoodie and thought it would be funny to bother you by calling your number.”

Tyler paused on the end of the line. “He found my hoodie?” he eventually said.

“Yep. But like I said, he's stupid, and wanted to bother you. Really sorry about that. I didn't ask him to give my number to you either.” Please hang up and let this be done, Josh prayed.

If God existed, he didn't accommodate Josh’s wishes. “I lost that hoodie,” Tyler said. “Someone else must have. Do you have it?”

And that was the million dollar question. All things considered, the answer was probably yes- Brendon had to have it to call the number, right? He didn't have a great memory. But he did say he wasn't buying anything, either. Would he really spend money on such a childish prank? Common sense said no, but this was Brendon. 

Josh sighed. “I'm not sure,” he said honestly. “Probably my friend has it. I'll see if he does and get back to you.”

Great. Now he had to return a fucking hoodie to a potential rapist, or axe murderer, or something. The guy didn't sound threatening over the phone with his flutist voice, but he could be in his thirties and he could be using the hoodie as an excuse to kill Josh and rape his corpse. 

Josh dismissed that idea as stupid. He was overreacting.

“Great,” Tyler said. “Do you want to write down my number, or…?”

“I'll get it off my landline, thanks.”

Josh heard Tyler exhale on the other side. “Right, thanks. I'll wait to hear from you, then.”

“Goodbye,” Josh said, a little too edgy, clicking the button to disconnect himself from the call. Immediately he began to dial in a familiar friend's number, already running through a list of profanities to spew at his stupid face for this unplanned mess.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be fun to write. Hopefully I can do it justice.


End file.
